


Broken Open

by PeachButterfly96



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Derek Feels, Derek Uses His Words, Derek gets ill, M/M, Protective Stiles, Sharing a Bed, Sick Derek Hale, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek, vulnerable!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 19:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachButterfly96/pseuds/PeachButterfly96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is ill with a serious case of the man flu, and with most of the pack away on a couples holiday, it seems Stiles is the closest one Derek can turn to for help, whether he likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Open

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first EVER Sterek fic, so I hope you all like :) This is un-beta'd, so I claim responsibility for all mistakes. This idea came to be one evening so I decided to roll with it. Enjoy!
> 
> My tumblr:  
> bowtiesandfun-times.tumblr.com

Life in the Stilinski household was rather quieter in the days following the pack’s departure to somewhere sunny, a couple’s holiday, apparently, and since Stiles had zero chance of getting a boyfriend/girlfriend in the near future, after his attempts at wooing Lydia hadn’t worked, Stiles not-so-reluctantly declined, saying that he’d rather spend time working on his budding relationship with his Xbox console and a packet of Oreos, thank you very much.

But, contrary to Stiles’ hopes, one cannot play Call of Duty for twelve hours straight without falling asleep; so around 2 o’ clock in the morning, Stiles found himself woken by the harsh vibrating of his phone on his cheek, lovingly sitting in a puddle of drool which had collected at the corner of his mouth. Hurriedly wiping his mouth with the corner of his sleeve, Stiles sat up quickly, nearly sending the bowl full of Oreos flying off the couch. Fumbling to grab the vibrating phone, which had fallen off his cheek and onto the floor, Stiles ended up sprawled on the carpet, phone clutched to his ear,

“Um…hello? Err…Stiles here” he said breathlessly, carding his hand restlessly through his hair.

There was a faint muffled groaning on the other end of the line, and Stiles, knowing that groan from anywhere, hell, he’d day-dreamed about that groan, immediately recognised Derek’s voice – aka sexy grumpy cat - as the mysterious night-time caller.

“Oh hey there Derek! What’s up man? Err…it’s a little late isn-” Stiles was cut off from his rambling by Derek’s voice, hoarse and rough, coming through the speaker,

“S-Stiles” Derek croaked, “Go to the shops...need green tea and ginger”

“What-?” Stiles started, “But it 2 o’clock in the morning and I have a class in the morning which I have to be up for in less than 4 hours and in case you haven’t forgotten, you do own a car, a pretty kickass one at that, why don’t you, I don’t know, drive to the shops in it?” The late nights were getting to him. 

“Stiles…” Derek rasped, oh that didn’t sound good, “I’m…I’ve…I’m ill” he struggled out, clearly it was hard for the alpha to admit, “And I’ve…ran out of tea…and ginger” he wheezed. “The car is at the garage…didn’t know who else to call…pack have gone…” 

Stiles, after silently high-fiving himself for being Derek’s first port of call, hurriedly told Derek that yes, he would get the green tea, and no, not the one with the blue sticker, but the one with the green sticker, and no, not the Kraft’s ginger biscuits, but the root ginger (apparently that was a thing?) and after a huffy “Hurry up” then the slam of the phone, Stiles speedily changed into a t-shirt and jeans and was out of the house, after checking on his Dad, who was, as ever, snoring peacefully in the upstairs bedroom.

After coaxing his Jeep into life and collecting all of Derek’s demands in the nearest 24 hour shop, Stiles pulled into the Hale mansion driveway, where the house loomed at the end, gleaming in the moonlight. Stiles parked the Jeep hastily and scrambled out of the driver’s seat, carefully balancing the goods in one hand. He walked up the steps, hand outstretched to knock on the heavy oak door when it swung open, revealing a very haggard Derek, with dark circles under his eyes, sweat droplets glistening on his forehead,

“Whoa dude, you don’t look so good” Stiles said, taking in the way Derek’s wife-beater clung to his abdomen in sweat and how the alpha’s eyes looked ever so slightly glazed over and unfocused.

“Stiles-” Derek began, leaning heavily on the door frame, breathing heavily, before promptly collapsing at Stiles’ feet, legs buckling as they failed to support him.

“Fuck Fuck!” Stiles exclaimed, rushing to help Derek, hauling him up by his top and immediately crumpling under the weight, “Shit Derek, what do you do all day, chuck back steroids?” he muttered, slinging Derek’s arm over his shoulder and dragging him through the hallway, onto the living room couch. 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones were not enough to carry Derek’s dead weight, Stiles decided, grumbling under his breath.

At Stiles unceremoniously shoving the alpha onto the couch, Derek woke up slightly, opening his eyes slowly, squinting at the light,

“Stiles…get the green tea and ginger goddammit” he panted, breath rattling in his chest.

“Okay, okay, okay, don't be such a sourwolf, jeez Derek, why do you even need green tea and shit? Can’t your magical werewolfy-super powers heal a simple bout of man-flu?” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Stiles” began Derek, eyebrows drawing down into a frown, which Stiles had always stupidly found attractive, “What part of ‘werewolves are half human’ don’t you understand? The human side is still vulnerable to the ‘simple bout of man-flu’, as you put it. The wolf part of me rejects artificial drugs, which is the reason for the green tea and ginger.” he growled, eyes flashing red, “So I would appreciate it if you stopped asking questions and start making tea” Derek gritted his teeth, glaring threateningly, which, even in his helpless state, still somehow managed to scare the shit out of Stiles.

“Err...right…gotcha big man, I’ll just, you know, be in the kitchen then…making the tea, your royal Highness,” Stiles said hurriedly, the last line said as he was ducking into the kitchen, avoiding the cushion thrown at him in retaliation.

The next ten minutes were spent making a dozen cups of tea, fearing Derek’s wrath and very large looking biceps if he didn’t deliver tea and ginger to the upmost standard. After the tea had finished brewing, he grated the ginger into the dark liquid, letting it steep for three minutes. He quickly strained the ginger, pouring the drink into cups and placing them onto a tray. Stiles picked up the tray hastily and walked into the living room, carefully avoiding the chair placed in the middle of the kitchen. He stopped instantly once he saw the view in the living room.

Derek was sprawled on the sofa, arms dangling limply over the edge and feet slung over the back of the couch. His eyes were closed, breathing in short, shallow breaths and his nose twitching slightly. He looked so vulnerable, Stiles thought, and it was sometimes hard to forget under his hard exterior how much Derek had been through, losing his whole family apart from a psychotic uncle whose motives were questionable. 

Stiles slowly walked into the room, gently placing the tea tray on the small wooden coffee table beside the couch and shaking Derek gently.

“Derek, come on dude, wake up, I have tea” Derek snuffled and bright blue eyes opened again. He took the proffered tea cup, drinking the herbal tea in large gulps, tipping his head back so Stiles could see his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. In that moment, Stiles felt an intense wave of longing rush through him. Not anything sexual, more of an intense need to care and look after the pack, which he had come to love like family. Shaking his head clear, he took the cup from Derek, dispelling the awkward after silence with a joke,

“So do you know that if you drink too much tea you can get diarrhoea as well as constipation?” Well done Stiles. Way to lessen the awkwardness. Derek looked up blearily, “Stiles,” He said frowning, “Shut up.” Right. Okay. Stiles is shutting up. As of now. 

The rest of the morning progressed in a similar pattern, Stiles saying something stupid and Derek telling him to shut up, the light-hearted banter telling Stiles that the ginger tea was definitely working. They slouched on the sofa, watching crappy TV as Derek recovered. It was kind of an unspoken agreement that Stiles would stay and keep Derek company, and Stiles, who had had a not-so-mini crush on Derek for a while, wasn’t protesting. Stiles called in sick to school, telling a feeble lie about migraines. His GPA was high enough, he reasoned, that one day off school wouldn’t hurt.

The hours passed, the shadows from the waning sun moving around the room; casting the room in an ethereal but relaxing light. From the beginning of the morning at the ends of couch, by the end of the day, Stiles had migrated to the middle of the leather sofa, sprawling against Derek, their thighs touching slightly, but to Stiles, it seemed like a furnace was pressed against his thigh. Stiles could hear Derek’s breathing even out and become deeper over the afternoon and he seemed more alert, a far cry from his deathly pallor in the early morning.

Stiles looked over at Derek, and his breath stuttered in his throat, the evening light was streaming through the alcove window, and catching Derek in profile. Stiles’ eyes wandered downward, roaming over his jet black hair, long eyelashes and the strong set of his jaw. Oh, how much Stiles wanted to run his tongue over the rough stubble caressing his jaw, and smooth his fingers through Derek’s hair. Stiles could feel himself becoming uncomfortably aroused, and squirmed in his seat. Fuck, couldn’t werewolves scent arousal? He frantically tried to think of turn offs: Greenburg in pink knickers, Coach Finstock in pink knickers, yep, that did it. Internal panic over, Stiles tuned in to reality again, and found himself looking into Derek’s amused eyes. Stiles jumped, startled, and quickly turned his head back to the TV, trying to pay attention to Jeremy Kyle berating yet another ungrateful teenager. After a while, Derek also turned back to the TV set, but this time shifting just that little closer to Stiles’ right side, pressing his shoulder against Stiles’ arms. Seriously, Derek was doing it on purpose now. Stiles crossed his arms in an effort to show defiance and remained that way for the next hour, until Derek’s voice startled him out of his reverie. 

“I think I’m going up to bed now...I have to be fit tomorrow for when the pack comes back” Derek grunted, heaving himself up onto his feet, swaying slightly. 

“Whoa dude, you don’t have to be all scary alpha just to impress the pack, you know” Stiles said, placing his hand on Derek’s shoulder, yep, that was definitely hard muscle right there, “All werewolves are sick at some point, hell, you don’t want to be around Erica when she’s on her ‘time of the month’. Just acknowledge for once that you need help, and you never know, you might even get better quicker if you admit it, ‘mind over matter’ and all that crap”. Stiles pressed, trying to get Derek to realise that he could rely on people, who wouldn’t let him down, unlike Kate Argent. 

Derek stared at Stiles after his little speech, eyes softening, and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly, “Stiles…stay with me tonight” he whispered, looking defenceless and vulnerable in his worn jogging bottoms. “Please.”

Time seemed to stand still, Stiles staring at Derek in surprise, well, he certainly hadn’t seen that coming. Derek, sensing Stiles’ hesitation, began to say, turning away from Stiles, 

“Doesn’t matter, don’t worry…I’ll show you to the door.” He got as far as the entrance to the hallway, before once again turning around, noticing Stiles wasn’t following. He looked over his shoulder, looking Stiles straight in the eye, and Stiles suddenly knew what to do – Derek had shown trust in a person, in Stiles, and that was a step along the healing process, getting over the loss of his family and learning to be able to trust people again, and Stiles had to help Derek. 

“I’ll stay with you…I’ll stay with you tonight Derek” Stiles said, looking at Derek directly, needing to convey comfort and the sense of belonging, something Derek needed right now. “Only no hanky-panky, mind you”

Derek eyes widened, apprehension followed by relief showing in his eyes, and he turned towards the winding staircase.

“Come on then.”

~X~

Stiles changed into his PJ bottoms and a T-Shirt Derek had lent him, Derek’s woody scent creeping up his nose, and Stiles revelled in the smell, burying his nose in the fabric, breathing in deeply. A knock on the door startled him out of his daydream, and Derek’s voice filtered through the door, 

“Stiles, are you nearly done? Only I need to pee” The old Derek was definitely back then, as demanding as ever. Stiles chuckled, flinging a toothbrush around his mouth before unlocking the door to Derek’s relaxed stance, leaning on the wall next to the door.

“So am I sleeping on the floor, or…?” Stiles shifted awkwardly, as Derek moved in close to get to the bathroom. Derek looked up, and suddenly they were too close.

“In the bed” Derek whispered, before disappearing into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Well if that wasn’t the incentive to get Stiles into bed in two seconds flat, he  
didn’t know what was. He scrambled into Derek’s feather-filled double bed, and waited, slightly nervously, for Derek’s return. After what seemed like an age, Derek emerged from the bathroom in blue jogging bottoms and no shirt. Seriously? Was he trying to kill Stiles? Derek caught Stiles staring, “I can’t sleep with a T-Shirt on, too restricted” he said, haha, oh yeah right, Stiles thought, cursing the thin fabric of his sleepwear which did hell all to disguise his growing problem. ‘Remember Coach Finstock Stiles, remember Coach Finstock’, Stiles instructed himself repeatedly, willing his teenage hormones to behave. By the time Derek got into bed, Stiles seemed to calm down enough to regain normal functioning ability of his brain. He shifted slightly to one side to accommodate for Derek’s larger form, trying not to scoot over the edge of the bed. The tension in the air was palpable, which made Stiles agitated and wanting to crack another joke. As he opened his mouth to speak, Derek interrupted,

“Thank you Stiles…I really mean it, for being there for me when…” he said softly, glancing at Stiles. “I just…it’s hard, you know, with Laura gone. And the rest of my family…” he paused, “I’m just glad there are people in this world who…” he paused again, struggling to speak. Instead of finishing his sentence, he leaned over into Stiles’ personal space, hand coming round to grip the back of his neck, and pressed a light kiss on Stiles’ forehead. “Thank you Stiles” he breathed, and Stiles’ breath hitched, their breaths mingling. 

Lost for words, Stiles waited, staying still, until Derek pulled away slowly, tortuously slowly, back onto the bed; but not before wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulling him close. Stiles leant back against Derek’s chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart, secure in the knowledge that he had helped Derek, he was Derek’s support. They were connected by loss, Derek’s his family, and Stiles’ his mother. Maybe, in time, Stiles would be able to fill that gap in his heart left by the loss of his family, but for now, this was more than enough to start with.

And if the rest of the pack came home the following morning to find Stiles and Derek sleeping peacefully in bed, chests rising and falling at the same time, with arms slung around each other, who were the pack to comment on it, it was the start of a new beginning.

THE END.


End file.
